Not Here
by stress
Summary: [COMPLETE] Maybe in another time, another place, this might just have worked. But not here. [JackxSpot, Spot's POV, ficlet][rated for minor language and slashy themes][companion to Empty Apologies]
1. September 1, 1900

Author's Note: _This is a small ficlet that I've had in my head. It's a bit experimental – you'll see the (experimental) format in the next chapter. I don't think I've ever seen one written in such a way before so I thought I would do it. This should only be about 4 or 5 chapters – and most of the chapters will probably be short (not as short as this one, though.)_

Disclaimer: _I do not own the characters of Spot Conlon, Jack Kelly or any other character from the 1992 Disney musical, _Newsies

--

Not Here

_Maybe in another time, another place, this might just have worked  
__But not here._

--

_Love reckons hours for months, and days for years;  
and every little absence is an age_.  
– John Dryden

--

September 1, 1900

It's been exactly one year, to the date, since I last saw him. One year. That's 365 days. 525,600 minutes. 31,536,000 seconds.

And I have way too much time on my hands nowadays. But what do you expect. I spend most of my time sitting atop the docks, watching the ebbs and flows of the East River.

It's been one year since he packed his bag and disappeared. You wouldn't think that a boy as infamous Jack Kelly would be able to vanish but he did. With the blink of an eye, he was gone.

None of the other boys never knew why he left, how he got the money, where he went. Sarah Jacobs, I hear, cried for a week straight when the Walking Mouth broke her the news. From what Boots told me last time he came by Brooklyn, Dave was just as crushed when Jacky left.

But I know. I know why he left.

I have a handful of letters, tucked under my bunk. There's about three or four hidden there, telling me just why he went away.

Because of me…


	2. November 10, 1899

Author's Note: _Here's chapter two. As you can see, this is what I meant about experimental: it's in letter form. And, I tell you, it took forever to find an address for a Brooklyn lodging house; there were two, eventually, that I found. This one, however, is about 2-3 blocks away from the Brooklyn Bridge (and East River) – the other is about 1-1.5 miles away – so I figure it would be best to make Spot closest to the Bridge and the River. I hope you guys like this._

Disclaimer: _I do not own the characters of Spot Conlon, Jack Kelly or any other character from the 1992 Disney musical, _Newsies

--

Not Here

_Maybe in another time, another place, this might just have worked.  
__But not here._

--

_Liam 'Spot' Conlon  
__c/o_ _Children's Aid Society Lodging House  
__61 Poplar Street  
__Brooklyn, New York 11201_

--

November 12, 1899

Spot,

How are you, buddy? Good I hope. I'm doing alright. I made it to Santa Fe, you know. It's nice here, almost as nice as I expected it to be. Did you know that Santa Fe ain't really part of America? I didn't. But it's still nice. Lots of Mexicans and, hell, even Indians here. Real goddamn Indians. Makes me feel real Irish, you know? I did learn a bit of Spanish, though. _Hola_. Means 'Hello'.

How's Brooklyn? That Bridge of your's still standing? Is it cold out there? It's gorgeous here. Always warm. Even now, mid-November, all I got on is my shirt and my trousers and I'm set. I got my cowboy hat, too. Not many people wear them over here, though. One of the first people I meant after hopping off the train, a little Mexican boy, called me _vaquero_. Means 'cowboy'. Neat, huh?

I wonder if you've been by Manhattan at all. I mean, I don't know what reasons you'd have to go there now but I just thought I'd ask. I miss the fellas, you know. And Sarah.

_Shit_. Sorry about that. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned her. Forget I did.

Wow, this letter just went awkward real quick. So, I guess I'll just cut through the bullshit. You know why you're holding this note in your hand – I know why I sent it to you.

I'm a coward, Spot. You know that. I can't be as brave as you, honest. I find that I constantly run away. When Francis Sullivan became too much for me, I left him behind. I became Jack Kelly. When the pressure of the strike and the threat of being thrown in the Refuge hit me, I turned scab.

When I couldn't face the truth about me and you, I panicked. And I ran.

And I'm sorry.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. I gave up my chance to go to Santa Fe when good ol' Teddy Roosevelt offered me a ride to the train station. And I was happy. I didn't mind. I had great friends, a girl – _sorry _– and, for the first time in my life, respect. Shit, Spot. I had respect. Do you know how hard it was to turn away from that?

I had you, too. Don't think I don't care. I do. It's just that… I don't know. You were so honest with me. I couldn't do you right. I couldn't be honest back. I panicked.

I don't expect your forgiveness. Hell, all I expect is one heck of a black eye should I ever return to New York. But I want you to understand.

Can you understand?

I do care for you, Spot. Really. I ain't sure if it's the same way that you feel about me and all but I do care. And that's why I had to run.

I'm sorry.

- Jack


	3. February 3, 1900

Author's Note: _And here's chapter three. I know you guys wanted to know what it was that Spot said, but this story is Spot's. We only see what he sees. Only read the letters that he reads. I'm toying around with the idea of doing a companion piece, in Jack's point of view. Complete with Spot's letter to him. What do you think? Anywho, here's the next chapter._

Disclaimer: _I do not own the characters of Spot Conlon, Jack Kelly or any other character from the 1992 Disney musical, _Newsies

--

Not Here

_Maybe in another time, another place, this might just have worked.  
__But not here._

--

_Liam 'Spot' Conlon  
__c/o_ _Children's Aid Society Lodging House  
__61 Poplar Street  
__Brooklyn, New York 11201_

--

February 3, 1900

Spot,

Thank you. I really wasn't expecting you to respond to the letter. To be honest, I guess, in away, I didn't want you to. It was so hard for me to post that first one. At the time, I thought I wrote down everything I wanted to tell you.

I didn't.

When your letter made it's way to my hands… I knew it was from you at once. I knew your hand, as shaky and child-like as it is, but that's not how I knew it was you. Don't laugh, but the envelope just reminded me of you. I can't explain it.

I mean, when I got Dave's letter back, I knew it was from him only from the return address. But your's? I just knew. And now I sound like an idiot. Shit.

Have you been by Manhattan yet? I hear they bumped good old Race to the leader over there. According to Dave, the other fellas listen real good to him. And Dave helps him out, too. He says they miss me but I think he's lying.

He mentioned you, too. He said that you ain't been around since I left and I don't blame you. But, you should. Forget about me, alright? Just help Race out. He needs to know that Brooklyn's still got his back.

You do, right?

I didn't expect all the stuff to happen just because I took off. It really makes me feel bad. I almost hopped the first train back but I couldn't. Not yet.

I'm sorry that it took so long for me to respond. It's not that I didn't want to. If I can still be honest – a first for me, I know – I didn't open your letter until after the new century.

I was afraid. I hadn't thought you would even want to write back to me after I sent you my letter. But you did – and I was afraid to see what you had written back. You always had a way with words. The simplest ones could make the biggest impact.

You write the same way you speak.

I was glad, all the same, when I saw your name, 'Conlon', in the return address. But I couldn't open it. I did, hold onto the sealed envelope. I kept it within my vest pocket, close to my heart, though.

I have a lot of time here. It's nowhere near as busy here in Santa Fe. I miss the people, I miss the crowd…

I miss you, Spot.

I spent long hours staring at that letter, I admit, trying to work up the nerve to read what you writ. When I finally did it, finally opened the envelope and read your brief note, I almost cried.

Damn you, for making me a pansy. And I don't mean that the way it sounds. I'm a man – you're a man. We don't cry. And your words almost did that to me. I'm only telling you so because it's you. And I trust you to burn this so that none find out.

I don't know what to say. Again, you surprise me with your bravery. You say what's on your mind and don't even think of the consequences. You just want to tell the world how you feel.

I wish I could do the same.

Actually, I wish I knew how I felt. Every time I think I know, think that I want nothing more than to settle down and have a family, you pop up. Whether your beautiful face or your gruff voice – Hell, even those red suspenders you seem to favor – you are always on my mind.

And I'm sorry.

Happy New Year, Spot. Maybe the twentieth century will do you better.

- Jack


	4. April 21, 1900

Author's Note: _Here's the fourth chapter – and the third letter to Spot. It's short but it's to be expected. Next chapter should explain more about their relationship – and the kind of response Jack is getting from Spot. And I've decided to, at some point, write the Jack piece. I just figure I'll wait until this is done. Woot._

Disclaimer: _I do not own the characters of Spot Conlon, Jack Kelly or any other character from the 1992 Disney musical, _Newsies

--

Not Here

_Maybe in another time, another place, this might just have worked.  
__But not here._

--

_Liam 'Spot' Conlon  
__c/o_ _Children's Aid Society Lodging House  
__61 Poplar Street  
__Brooklyn, New York 11201_

--

April 21, 1900

Spot,

That's not fair. I'm trying the best I can and _that's _the response I get?

Fine.

You want the truth? The 'fucking truth', as you so nicely wrote in your letter?

Fine to that, too.

Yeah, I love you. The more time I spend here, alone, the more I realize that. But what do you want me to do?

Do you want me to hitchhike my way back to you? Do you want me to come crawling back to the City and announce to the world – to the boys I've lived with all those years – that I'm a queer? Destroy what's left of Sarah and tell her that I want to be with a boy? That she could never be good enough for me?

That's why I can't do this, Spot. Yeah, I love you. So what?

Maybe in another time, in another place, this might just have worked.

But not here. Not now.

I love you, Spot.

And I'm sorry.

- Jack


	5. August 8, 1900

Author's Note: _Man, am I on a roll or what? Three stories updated today and I'm still going strong. Well, here's chapter five – only two more to go. _

Disclaimer: _I do not own the characters of Spot Conlon, Jack Kelly or any other character from the 1992 Disney musical, _Newsies

--

Not Here

_Maybe in another time, another place, this might just have worked.  
__But not here. _

--

_Liam 'Spot' Conlon  
__c/o Children's Aid Society Lodging House  
__61 Poplar Street  
__Brooklyn__, New York 11201_

--

August 8, 1900

Spot,

You know, I wasn't the one who started this… _thing_. You were the one, remember? I was happy (I think) when the strike ended. We won and made Pulitzer feel like an ass. And I had Sarah.

I'm not sure if she's what I wanted but I had her and I was good with that. I'm getting old Spot. I'm _eighteen_ now. I can't be selling papes forever.

And then you had to go and blow it all for me. Yeah, I'm blaming this whole mess on you. Why didn't you go back to Brooklyn that night? The God damn governor his self let you in his carriage. Why didn't you go?

You didn't. I remember it well. The boys and I finished selling and I spent the evening at David's house…with Sarah. I had just left her and had began to go back to the Lodging House when I saw you.

Or did you see me? You must have because, before I knew it, you had approached me from behind. It was not the first time we had been intimate.

Remember that drunken night in Brooklyn? I do…

You kissed me, out in public. I forgot Sarah at once. I never told you that, did I? Yeah, your kiss was that good.

God I miss it. I miss you.

_Shit. _

You know, it's been over a year now since that night. Why is it that I can still taste you. Still feel you?

Damn you, Spot. What the fuck did you do to me? I can't take it anymore. I love you and that's why I can't be with you.

I'm getting married, Spot. A nice broad, Rosie. She's the only daughter of my boss – he's an old soldier who hired me to help him around his his house. He gave me a bed to stay in and food when I needed it. He's a good guy, Mister Dale.

And Rosie… She likes me, Spot, and I know what's expected of me. I asked her to marry me. I had to do it – do you understand? I did it and she said yes. We'll be married in the Fall.

I love you, Spot (_Spot is crossed out_) **Liam**. And I'm sure that I always will. But I can't do this anymore.

And I'm sorry.

(I seem to be apologizing way too much. But I need to. If anything, I feel better. Selfish, I know. You're right, I am a fucking prick. Sorry, again.)

I hope you're happy. For me, be happy. Find a girl, settle down. It's all you can do.

Love,

Jack  
(_Jack is crossed out_)  
**Francis **


	6. September 2, 1900

Author's Note: _Alright, here's the next chapter. Note the date – basically, it's right back where we started from. Only one more chapter to go._

Disclaimer: _I do not own the characters of Spot Conlon, Jack Kelly or any other character from the 1992 Disney musical, _Newsies

--

Not Here  
_Maybe in another time, another place, this might just have worked.  
__But not here._

--

_Liam 'Spot' Conlon  
__c/o_ _Children's Aid Society Lodging House  
__61 Poplar Street  
__Brooklyn, New York 11201_

--

September 2, 1900

Dear Spot,

I hope this letter gets to you before you have a chance to reply to my last post but, if it doesn't, I don't blame you a bit for any harsh words you have. I was completely out of my head when I said that I was giving you up for Rosie.

I told her yesterday that I couldn't do it and she agreed. I'm not marrying her, Spot. I just couldn't.

This last year (it was a year yesterday, shit…) has been hell for me. I always thought that I would be happy out West and it didn't work out the way I wanted. I used my dream to forget about the present and as a result – my dream became a nightmare.

I'm sorry, Spot. This time I really mean it. All along I've been kidding myself and lying to you. I never told you why I left. I made it seem like it was all your fault and it wasn't.

It was mine.

I have known that I loved you for so long that it became a part of me. When someone had to go to Brooklyn, I jumped just so it meant that I had some time with you – a glimpse of you.

When you put your arms around me that night, I was not afraid. I wasn't repulsed. I was happy. You had the nerve to do what I've always wanted to do. But, I'm a coward. After you kissed me, I went right to Sarah Jacobs. And for no other reason than she was an unmarried girl and I'm supposed to like unmarried girls.

But I don't. I doubt I ever did.

I'm coming home, Spot. I know this sounds strange and I don't think you even care anymore, but New York is my home. Not Santa Fe. I think I liked it better here when I was there, you know?

Mr. Dale, the man I work for, told me that if I stick it out through Christmas, he'll buy me train fare back as a gift for my work. I'll be back in time for the New Year.

I can't wait to see you. Please tell me you feel the same.

Love,

Jack


	7. October 3, 1900

Author's Note: _And, we have reached the end of _Not Here_. It was a ficlet and it is complete – it was always meant to end on a down note and props to those who really know what happen. I will begin work on the companion piece soon and that work will have more insight as to what occurred. _

_I want to thank: _Maeko-Nohara, xoborogrlxo, Summaz, cookiegoilforever, Greenberry Hair Bonner, MyKa HoLLy, Lady of Tir Na Nog, Prince, Braids21_ and _rein, _for all the reviews left. I really appreciate them all and I hope you continue to read the next story (in Jack's POV). _

Disclaimer: _I do not own the characters of Spot Conlon, Jack Kelly or any other character from the 1992 Disney musical, _Newsies.

--

_Mr. Jack Kelly  
__1134 Cerrillos Rd  
__Santa Fe,_ _New Mexico  
__(Territory of the __U.S.__ of A.) _

--

October 3, 1900

Mr. Kelly,

It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that your letter (enclosed) never reached its intended recipient. Mr. Liam Conlon, aged 17, passed away on the 1st of September (cause of death: accidental drowning).

After discussing the matters with the supervisor of the Children's Aid Society, located at 61 Poplar Street in Brooklyn, it was decided that the letter be returned to the original sender as it is understood that the pair of you corresponded frequently.

I am sorry for your loss.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Thomas O'Malley  
The Children's Aid Society  
New York, New York


End file.
